Beards - English version
by kastiyana
Summary: Being "boyfriend and girlfriend" means helping each other in many ways. - Translation by luvtheheaven


_**Translator's Note from luvtheheaven:**_I tried my hardest to keep this true to how kastiyana originally wrote this fic in Spanish, but if something seems awkwardly phrased, please feel free to blame that on me as the bad translator – most likely it's not quite as awkward in the original Spanish. I'm not that great at Spanish but I used Google Translate and the SpanishDict online dictionary to help me and I tried my best. Some parts were _really_ tricky for me to translate. Other parts were quite easy for me to translate. But all in all, I think if you read this translation below you'll at least get the gist of what kastiyana was trying to say. kastiyana is quite good at English herself, and helped me a little with the translating process actually, which did really make this a whole lot better.

She wrote a great fic and I think you all will agree once you read this.

I just love Santana/Karofsky fics and wanted to share this one with the English world. I hope some English speakers (who would never have read the fic had it remained only in Spanish) can find a way to appreciate this translation. Everything else on this page, other than this one note from me here, is translated from kastiyana's original Spanish writing – including author's notes, summaries, and everything. This is the end of luvtheheaven speaking.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **_l thought of this so quickly; lots of gay denial anguish. Enjoy.

* * *

Beards

And this - this was precisely the most important part of the "being a couple" cover; the part where they were now.

He kissed the Latina girl fiercely, once again, before pushing her gently onto the bed. She circled his neck with her arms - those thin and athletic arms. Dave closed his eyes for a moment fantasizing, mentally berated himself, then opened them again to face her - she wore a confident look, typical Santana, for she'd told him that once they had done this, all would be good again - as if together they could wipe away and forever erase their sickening natures.

Again with his eyes closed he kissed her, and slowly he placed his huge body on top of her. She generously opened her legs, and he felt the shapely legs around his waist. He gasped, a muffled sigh escaping his mouth…fantasizing…

Again, fearful eyes. He had an - almost - terrified gaze, being not as sure about this now as the Latina seemed to be. She - in another attempt - directed her hand to the crotch of her "boyfriend", touching it as she had done with many others, many times. Her hand moved with expertise, an art without emotion attached. At her touch, he could feel the instinctive effect arise. Dave "came to life" and closed his eyes again, concentrating on something that seemed very far away.

Dave slid his hand under Santana's shirt, moving it across her waist, caressing her around her chest…She moved, seeking the contact that she craved. She wanted to be touched… she wanted to be touched by Dave's huge hand. She unwillingly needed him. _This is__the right thing__Santana__Lopez__, __and__the rest__sucks__._ Her hands traveled around the athlete to his back - that huge back, that rough skin that was so far from _her_ skin… the thin back and pronounced curve of Brittany's waist. This time it was her turn to be fearful, but she didn't let her thoughts interrupt anything. Instead she focused, recalling those times with Puck when she felt great! If she could enjoy it then, then she could now.

Her hands went on desperately to Dave's pants, without deliberation, unbuttoning, invading, touching him and motivating herself to continue this madness. He groaned hoarsely, closing his eyes tightly. She smiled, happy that things were working so well for him. Meanwhile, he focused only on the feel of that hand, that mouth kissing his neck, and an imaginary husky voice between breaths saying his name... or maybe not so husky, maybe just a soft but masculine voice, a countertenor voice, ridiculously white skin, thin muscular arms, a dancer's shapely legs clad in Mark Jacobs pants, and eyes… those beautiful and fierce blue eyes of Hummel's, looking at him with a desire almost as big as the real hatred that he had professed.

Then Santana, already in the right mindset and about to slide her panties down underneath her skirt, felt some drops falling onto her face. She opened her eyes to see Dave grimacing painfully, yet still proceeding to touch her chest for the first time, as if he was punishing himself for having an impure thought, the same type of thought she was having as she imagined Brittany with some extra pounds and one of those ridiculous prosthetic harnesses for penetration.

She silently left her "boyfriend"'s manhood in peace, closed his pants and walked around Dave's neck in order to force him to lay his head in the crook between her neck and shoulder. In a very motherly way, she stroked his head, saying, "shhh… hush, hush… it's alright..."

"It's not alright!" he moaned, sobbing in despair. "I'm gay, damn it! What the hell do I do now?"

And Santana was startled, surprised to hear the acknowledgement of his sexuality for the first time coming from his lips, after so much senseless denial.

"Don't worry, Dave. It's okay," she whispered. "There's nothing wrong with it." And she tried to sound sure, because she was trying to convince herself more than him.

"What do we do?" he implored with swollen eyes, looking at Santana closely for any response.

"For the time being, we won't repeat this; it was a bad idea," she bitterly answered, "and as for at school, we'll keep doing what we've been doing."

"The show must go on" they say, and so it must. The next day they walked through the hallways of McKinley proudly holding hands, as if they owned the world. They were accomplices – and they shared a complicity that many would envy. If only they knew what was behind those proud stares.


End file.
